


everything in its place

by Fluffifullness



Series: Tumblr MakoHaru Festival [13]
Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Prompt Fic, Smile, Tumblr: makoharufestival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffifullness/pseuds/Fluffifullness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto hasn't been smiling much lately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything in its place

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "that smile" challenge of the [makoharu festival on tumblr](http://makoharufestival.tumblr.com/). The tumblr post is [right here](http://makoharufestival.tumblr.com/post/76514143645/challenge-that-smile-user-fluffifullness).

Makoto hasn’t been smiling much lately.

Haru noticed right away, of course, day one when Makoto greeted him in the early morning and it wasn’t that he looked unhappy, exactly, but the way his eyes lit up wasn’t the same and he didn’t smile. The corners of his lips turned up once or twice during the walk to school, but he held back more than he would have normally – and normally he wouldn’t have put any cap at all on the number of times he could smile in an hour – and it was the same in class and at practice, Makoto resisting the urge to smile and Haru resisting the urge to comment on it.

“Mako-chan’s been kind of down today,” Nagisa commented as they were getting dressed after swimming and showers, wet-haired and aching already. Makoto looked at Nagisa first, and then he turned to Haru and shook his head once.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he said, and still no smile. “I think you might be imagining it, Nagisa.”

The way he said it made it sound so final that even Nagisa gave up that time, but it was only a day or two later that he and Rei both pulled Haru aside and asked him if he knew what was going on with Makoto. They stood looking at him expectantly, eyes occasionally darting over to check the other side of the pool, where Makoto was still busy talking with Kou about their next joint practice with Samezuka.

Haru opened and closed his mouth, felt like he was swaying at the edge of a precipice hundreds of miles above solid ground, and then shook his head to clear it.

“He’s fine,” he reassured them finally, even though his head still felt all clouded and he couldn’t focus on anything at all. “He said he was fine, so he’s fine.”

Rei and Nagisa didn’t look at him like they doubted him, then, but it was obvious all the same that they didn’t believe him. So they must have been worried, and Haru knows that they’re still worried – because he’s not as blind as they think he is, he sees the questioning looks, the concern they direct at Makoto and Haruka both, and he can hear them whispering, hushed when they think he’s not listening.

The whole week passes like that, awkward tension and Haru biting back questions at every turn. He wants to say it outright, but something stops him every time he looks at Makoto – when he smiles, when he doesn’t, the heavy ache of repression.

He’s glad when the weekend comes, almost relieved and tired enough that when Makoto starts to ask him if he’d like to hang out, Haru interrupts and says that he needs the night alone. “To sleep,” he says when Makoto looks confused. “We’ll see each other tomorrow, okay?”

Makoto hesitates before nodding his understanding. The exchange is only different because this time, Haru can feel Makoto watching him as he walks away, unsmiling and genuinely sad-eyed. It’s different because both of them understand that something is wrong, but neither of them knows how to go about fixing it.

 

Haru likes swimming but he also likes the feeling that comes after swimming, the bone-deep exhaustion that manifests as the sensation of something heavy in him and on him, thick and warm and soothing. He likes lying still in bed and closing his eyes and the way his body can fool him into feeling like he’s still drifting half-submerged, water everywhere he looks and just enough room to breathe. He likes it less than he likes actually swimming, but as poor substitutes go, it’s not bad. It lets him forget about the bad things, at least.

That’s all he really needs for the time being, anyway.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep like that, but somewhere in the midst of forgetting and drifting, it happens and then his eyes are opening and he’s shaking, no longer alone or even all that warm, comfortable.

“Haru.”

Haru groans softly and thinks for a moment that he must have messed up somehow – they _do_ have school today, after all, and now he’s late and Makoto’s late because of him and he won’t be able to spend a lot of time in the bath – but no, he looks at Makoto again and sees that he’s not wearing his school uniform, either – just some old, worn-out clothes, comfortable weekend stuff.

“Can I talk to you for a bit?”

Haru sits up and rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He doesn’t say anything, which for Makoto translates to a general go-ahead.

“Have – have I seemed weird to you, Haru? I might be wrong, but it looked like everyone was worrying…” He rubs at the back of his neck, turns a little red. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I came to see you. I didn’t think you’d still be asleep.”

Haru looks at him, surprised and not quite awake enough yet to process the sudden flurry of words.

“What time…?”

“Almost noon,” Makoto says. His eyes are still downcast; he doesn’t smile like he’s teasing Haru gently, doesn’t laugh or let Haru see what he’s thinking – so the words come out as plain fact, dry and empty.

“Are you okay?” Haru asks, chest hurting. Makoto looks sad, but that’s wrong, it’s not how Makoto’s supposed to look and Haru doesn’t like it – he _hates_ it, hates himself maybe for causing it and definitely for not being able to make it better.

Makoto shrugs, bites his lip.

“Hey. You came to talk, didn’t you?”

“Could you answer my question first?” Makoto says quietly.

Haru blinks. “Yeah – you have been weird. I think everyone’s noticed, but they don’t know how to say it. Neither did I,” he adds more softly. He’s not sure if the admission alone is enough to prompt an explanation, but he sits there and stares at Makoto and hopes that it can be.

Makoto exhales slowly and takes a seat on the bed by Haru’s feet.

“I feel like an idiot for starting this,” he admits. “I – I might have made a big deal out of nothing.”

Haru gives him a hard look and says, “What was nothing?”

“Right,” Makoto breathes uneasily. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Haru raises an eyebrow, and Makoto’s the one who smiles – fleeting, almost guilty. “Guess not, huh?”

“Just say it, Makoto,” Haru sighs impatiently.

“Alright – um – have you ever thought that people have different kinds of smiles? I mean, they definitely do, right?”

“Sure…”

“I – I know it sounds strange,” Makoto says defensively. “I just thought – I mean, Rin kinda said that I look at Haru differently, and that – it bothered me a little. If there are different kinds of smiles, maybe some of them are more… I don’t know, sincere?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Sorry…”

“I thought you were really upset about something,” Haru says half-irritably. Half relieved – maybe Makoto’s okay, after all. _Big deal out of nothing._

“I am – I mean, I was. I’m trying to explain, but I don’t know how to say it in a way that makes sense.” Makoto sighs and looks at Haru. “I guess what I keep thinking is that it might be unfair of me to only smile at Haru a certain way. I’m a little afraid that I’m only going through the motions when I smile at other people. I mean – a polite smile, a friendly one… They’re not the same as the way I look at you. Or – or that’s what Rin said, anyway. More or less.”

“You’re not faking anything,” Haru says after a moment’s silence. “You’re really just…”

“Just?”

“Nice,” Haru huffs. “I guess. It’s obvious that you mean it every time you smile. It’s only forced when you try not to.”

Makoto’s eyes widen, and he fidgets with his hands in his lap. “I know,” he says, hesitant. “I never felt like I was being dishonest, but all the same – I started putting more thought into the way I smiled, and one thing led to another until I just” – he shrugs – “wasn’t doing it much at all.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Makoto smiles at that, too, but it’s still a little too far from his normal, comfortable smile to please Haru.

“Stop doing that,” he sighs. _Stop holding back._

“D-doing –? Sorry, this is just” – he lowers his head to hide his blush – “it’s still bothering me.”

“ _Everyone_ treats different people different ways,” Haru says, exasperated. “It’s worse for you to make yourself miserable – for a stupid reason like that. People like it when you smile. I mean,” and he stirs forward, the palms of his hands and his knees digging into the fabric of his comforter until he sits down at Makoto’s side, “ _I_ like the way you smile at me.”

_Only me._

Makoto stiffens, looks wildly at Haru with his cheeks all lit up red. “Th-thanks,” he squeaks uncertainly. “Haru…”

“I mean it. And it’s only fair.”

Dazed, Makoto repeats those final two words under his breath, eyes still fixed squarely on Haru, Haru’s face, Haru’s lips. Haru’s watching Makoto’s eyes, so he notices immediately – the way Makoto’s gaze shifts slightly down, the tiny spark there, and that’s enough. His smile is an intentional quirk that reads an obvious _I know what you’re thinking_ – and vice versa, he’s sure – as he leans not in but away, hands fisting in the fabric of Makoto’s T-shirt, pulling him down with him. At first their lips don’t meet but their eyes do, Makoto’s wide and uncertain, Haru’s a little surprised.

They kiss.

He – Haru – he can feel the exact moment when Makoto goes from half-wanting to pull away to blushing and inviting Haru to part his lips more – from still warmth to awkward movement and a steady rush of heat – and Haru moves his hands up to Makoto’s hair, fingers carding through it, clinging and pushing.

He’s breathless before he realizes what’s happening, Makoto gasping and pulling away, every inch of him bright pink and red.

“We – we weren’t done,” Haru sulks, chest rising and falling fast.

“We can finish later,” Makoto says. He’s looking right at Haru now, fidgeting with his hands and apparently not quite aware of the fact that he’s still straddling Haru on Haru’s bed – until he pauses, looks around at his friend, draws a sharp breath and starts back. “S-sorry!”

“It’s fine…” Haru says, sitting up and drawing his knees close to his chest. Makoto touches his lips absently, nodding, and Haru even smiles at that.

Makoto notices. “I – I got a little carried away, Haru, sorry. It’s just, since it was our first time and all.” He clears his throat and runs his other hand through his hair, tracing the path Haru’s hands took – still wide-eyed, still pink and red and breathing too heavily. Amazed.

“It isn’t that big a deal, anyway,” Haru says. He doesn’t _feel_ it, but the fake bravado settles the shy flutter in his stomach, the heat in his cheeks – it helps, but he’s still blushing, too.

“Maybe not,” Makoto agrees momentarily. He tilts his head and smiles fondly at Haru, eyes almost squinting, the lazy, content look Haru’s used to seeing. That familiar, untraceable hint of something _extra,_ maybe in the way he moves, the hand he uses to brush Haru’s cheek, light-as-a-feather touch and the way his smile widens a little when Haru’s breath catches. Not quite triumphant, not only amused. He says something else, too, but it sounds as absentminded as Haru feels, confused like he was when Makoto wasn’t smiling at all, but not in the same way – and he doesn’t understand a word of it, just catches Makoto’s wrist and

meets him halfway.


End file.
